Antique
by Ziven
Summary: [Post canon, AR, M/M] When something is old you try to restore it, but some things can't be repaired. All things can become old, and Marik, surrounded constantly by artifacts, doesn't want to admit that his relationship may be one of them. -Bananashipping, Marik x Honda; implied Protectshipping- for the YGO fanfic contest


**Antique**

"Look…I'm sorry," Marik said. "I won't be at home for a few more days."

The disappointment was evident in the sigh that emanated from the other end of the phone. "…then when are you coming back?" The difficult question.

"Not for another four or five days, Honda."

The brunette on the other end didn't sound happy at all about that. "_Five_?"

"I'm sorry; the Museum in Venice offered to clean some of the artifacts for us for free before displaying them, so the dates of the display have been pushed back. It's a very important show of appreciation for us letting them borrow them."

"You have to be there for that?"

"I have to be there for everything, Honda," Marik replied, a bit annoyed now because Honda already knew the ins and outs of the job and what they entailed. "Ishizu and Rishid aren't here yet."

"Why aren't there?" Honda's voice started off hard and stiff, but became softer as he continued. "I want to see you."

"They've business elsewhere right now, and I'm on the schedule for this particular client. I'm lucky they've going to cover me." This sister and brother needed breaks, as well. He had already cut a lot of deals with them so that he could stay in Domino a lot longer than he used to. They were mostly sympathetic to his significant other missing him and their long-distance relationship being difficult, but Marik himself didn't want to lean on them too heavily. "This isn't really what I want either, but…" Marik struggled to come up with a pleasurable alternative. "…but we'll go out for a nice dinner and I'll plan a surprise, too." He wasn't sure at all what that surprise was going to be, but he had almost a week to figure that out now, apparently.

"I guess," Honda said, not sounding placated but indicating his acknowledgement of the fact that Marik was trying to make things up to him.

"I'm going to see you soon enough," Marik reassured him again. "There won't be any more delays. I promise." He wanted to move onto a different subject, something that wasn't nearly as heavy as this. "How was your day today?"

Honda was silent for a while before saying, "I don't want to talk about it. Nothing exciting happened anyway."

Now Marik_ was_ frustrated. He bit his tongue, swallowing a snappy comeback in favor of avoiding a larger argument. "Alright, I guess." There was a pause, and Honda's silence only irked him further as Marik had been expecting him to ask the beach blond about his own day. He sighed and running fingers through his hair, although he knew that his significant other, distant in Domino, couldn't see it. Perhaps it was better that they had some space between them at the moment. The tomb keeper had never been able to stand it when Honda did nothing but complain, or refused to accept some sacrifices. Awkwardly, he concluded, "Okay, Honda, I guess I'll call you a little later tonight? Or tomorrow?"

"Sure," Honda said his voice stiff and unyielding. Marik couldn't help hanging up the phone without a proper reply. This was going to be one hell of week, wanting-but-not-wanting to be back with Honda. Shaking his head, he resolved to try to cheer himself up; after all, Honda would be over it in a couple days and they would be talking like normal until he returned.

And indeed, the work week was hell. Ishizu called him that morning, requesting that he get up with the cleaning team at the _Palazzo Ducale _to find out what sort of updated equipment they would use to help restore and clean some of the pieces—and figure out whether or not it would be worth it for the Ishtar family to invest in them to retain its self-sufficiency. He was used to taking instructions from her at this point. Of his own decision he had allowed her, the oldest of the family, to keep up with its affairs even after he had turned of legal age to do it himself. Ishizu had been in a big help in that way, being understanding to his ongoing issues with Honda and wanting to appease him and Marik took it as a blessing for the time being. That being said he was cranky and irritable the first day or so, especially with the thought of his lackluster conversation with Honda still fresh on his mind. He hated ending on that sort of note with his significant other, and he much rather would have had a conversation filled to the brim with affection and a sense that his return would be more so welcomed than usual because of the extra time spent apart—but there was no hope of that; Honda had destroyed it.

It was interesting, watching what they used, these metal instruments that he wasn't accustomed to seeing. He was a tomb keeper, yes, but his family applied older techniques such as cleaning mixtures that had to be naturally brewed and made and thinned so as to not affect the integrity of the artifacts that they were keeping. Their utensils were primitive things, custom-made with their own two hands, like the palm cloth his father had created. However simple, they worked. He was asked by one of the proctors before the cleaning began if work wanted to be done to restore some of the tablets as well the smaller utensils—or even the tomb itself, if they could bring it to the city. The tomb, however, was something that they would never loan or sell, and only two institutions were aware that they kept it. Marik declined, if only because he knew that restoration could take months and although it may have been something Ishizu would have wanted they would have other chances. Marik couldn't afford to remain in the water supported city for that length of time—Honda would leave him for sure. He would take the tongue lashing. But Marik was very inquisitive and asked for the paperwork detailing everything that they were doing, highlighting company names for larger machines, specific models for the smaller and recording ingredients and brands of solutions—oh, there were so many solutions. The _Palazzo Ducale_ hadn't had its very own facilities large enough to perform the cleaning, and therefore they had been very eager to please. Marik had everything that he needed to know, and he made the appropriate copies for Ishizu and Rishid. Over the next few days he knew nothing but the darkened workspace areas, overhead lamps illuminating only what was necessary to decrease damage to the myriad of tablets of prophecy, cups, two written tombs whose pages could barely be read and quite a few faded gold trinkets. He had to rise promptly at six and be out of his hotel at seven to ride to the older building with the items, the hired hands from his own family aiding the historians and scientists through with their work when they could. For all of the knowledge that Marik gained during those days, he never wanted to be part of artifact cleaning again. He was nowhere near an archeologist, but he felt like one.

He didn't speak to Honda again until after the cleaning was over, and they'd had a good conversation. The brunette had listened while he explained all of the different things that there was to know about the cleaning process—at least, everything without feeling as though he was taking over the entire conversation. Honda had told him that there hadn't been too much going on with him that particular week but that he'd gotten a hold of a certain type of car that he'd really liked and hadn't worked on for a long time. He'd been just as excited as Marik was and the blond had his turn to get the reverse treatment. Not that he minded; he loved talking to Honda, even if there wasn't a particularly romantic exchange. To be frank, he was simply content that they were speaking again. Marik promised that his schedule would be his usual hours the next day and the entire week, and that he was going to call Honda whenever possible while he was working. He was simply going to oversee the exhibit and hang about the general area of the museum while the display was going on. It wasn't something that was necessary, but it was indeed a trademark of their family to always watch while exhibits were on. Usually, he had to remind Honda of Ishizu's presence during the entirety of the Battle City Tournament, possible only because she was in town during another showcasing that particularly revolved their largest tablet, the one that depicted the Pharaoh's past. The brunette hadn't objected, though; only said that he was glad that Marik was coming back in a week's time.

He didn't even ask about the surprised Marik had promised him, but the beach blond had known he'd forget, and he spent the next week looking for it. Unfortunately, he'd had to resort to fiddling with computers—something that he could do but didn't enjoy doing for the most part—to find an activity for the two of them to do on their way back. They were in two different time zones, so he'd had to plan ahead with the difference in mind, but he didn't think that Honda would mind being picked up by limo. He thought he was going a bit big when he'd decided to add the cliché string quartet at their dinner and some new fangled engine that he'd hurriedly written down while he'd been on the phone with Honda earlier, scheduled to be delivered to his home a few days after Marik had already returned. He was overcompensating, he knew—but he felt like he had to; Honda hated long distance relationships, and he was giving Marik a try because the tomb keeper felt so strongly about him, and Honda deserved to be commended for his patience. Ishizu and Rishid had been with him by then, arriving only on the second day of the display, but Marik couldn't just leave—he'd promised he would finish this transaction for them. He sent Honda a text, saying that he was going to be on his way soon, and that was that. It was almost over.

When the week was over, Marik hadn't even bothered to stay for the entirety of the commemorative dinner—he had finished the transaction for them, even to the first half of the dinner and even mingled with a few people for the hour that he was there—he had shaken the curator's hand and those of the president on the Executive Board of the institution and the benefactor who had donated the monetary resources for the city to commission the pieces' visit in the first place. He'd done all of that.

Marik was also on the first flight out of Venice after six o'clock. It was a damn near twelve hour itinerary to Domino. He hated long flights.

When the plane had taken off, it had been near seven in the evening, the sky darkening above him. The skies were fair not too long after they took off, but when the first few hours had gone by, after they'd served preliminary snacks. Because of the seating on the plane he'd ended up next to a couple who were talking about books and children and whatever it was that Marik did _not_ want to hear about at the time. On the upside, there were no crying children on this flight because of its longevity. There were two layovers, although he'd gotten dinners on all three flights, so he couldn't really be bothered to complain about it. The breaks from the plane were also welcome, as he being on planes while there was turbulence truly perturbed him, and that was something that his love for Honda couldn't get him through. He hated having window seats on the plane near the wings and he hated being awake during turbulence. The rattling, the shaking—he always felt as though the plane was going to crash for some reason. He'd done a terrible number of things, sailed on boats, dueled atop a blimp (although, in all actuality, he had been nearly unconscious mentally at the time) but planes still bothered him. The layovers gave him a chance to refresh himself. It was also quite curious to see the sky lightening as he grew closer and closer to Domino City. Time was always a curious thing, he observed to himself. It was the thing that kept himself and Honda from truly enjoying the fruits of their relationship, in his opinion. There wasn't enough time to do everything. He wanted to serve his family's legacy as the last tomb keepers, and he wanted to be able use it to earn himself a living so that he could take care of Honda—or anyone else he wanted—without a second thought. Things never worked out the way they were planned. But Honda would be glad to see him, he knew. He would be glad to get his hands on Honda, to touch him and feel the brunette in his arms and physically feel the affection he'd been craving for the last week and a half. He wanted it so badly his skin was crawling to remember something that hadn't happened yet. Was that how Ishizu felt?

It was almost four thirty in the afternoon when Marik made his way from the hotel in Domino to Honda's place. He was two hours behind schedule, but he'd had to get settled after he landed; he couldn't just walk up to Honda after twelve hours on planes without a shower or a bottle of wine or…keys to a new rental car. Rental motorcycle? It had taken Marik forever to decide that as well, and he'd ended up going for the motorcycle despite the insurance being a mark higher than he'd wanted. Honda loved the things, and while Marik personally preferred luxury cars between the two he was accustomed to both. He wanted everything to go right, even if he was running late. Honda had known he was on his way, but his phone had been off the whole time he'd been en route—he was always scared shitless that the plane would crash if he kept his phone on. Even then, as he hastily swore and turned his phone on and waited for the signal to return he was a bit jittery. He'd gotten the "OK" text from Honda, but that had probably been sent almost a day ago. It was almost five, so maybe Honda was at work?

The repair shop had been Honda-less. His family—who were not Marik fans at all—told him that Honda wasn't there. The brunette had a penchant for leaving work early, so it was alright. He was a bit annoyed that Honda hadn't bothered to tell him, but that was nothing new. The blond's mind was on their epic date, scheduled for two days later to match the arrival or near-arrival of the engine he'd ordered. Another kick and he was off to Honda's apartment. He'd forgotten about so many things. Did he have the key? Where was it? On the keyring he always kept on his belt. Right? Right? No. That belt was back at the hotel in his carry-on, and Marik had to go back for it. Shit!

Five thirty, take a few minutes, was when he arrived at Honda's. Three hours behind—three hours behind! He'd sent Honda a text that he was coming at a red light not long after he'd left the hotel. Should he have bought a gift to make up for it? Not enough time. It was hard, calculating the timezone changes—Honda probably didn't even know he was in the city. Good. Maybe he'd scare the hell out of him. The motorcycle was parked out front—he was there.

In the building, up the stairs. Up more stairs, left, right and down the hall. Key in the door. Twist. Goddamn it, he'd forgotten to do the jiggle. Stupid door. Marik's thoughts were a diegesis of his actions at that point, trying to guide himself through what he was doing. He shouldn't have been this excited, but he hated long trips, and to be honest he'd never left Domino for longer for a week without hearing about it from Honda. This hadn't been the longest trip, but it had been more straining than most of them. All he'd ever done was sight-see while he was monitoring the exhibits. He'd had to learn and record, and even now the information and numbers, letters, names—they swirled in his head, permeating his thoughts from time to time when something triggered the memories. But then the door was open and he would have to wait until later to discuss the nuances of his trips with himself—not like that, but in his thoughts.

The lights were out. Oh, great. Was Honda gone? With Yuugi and the others? Anzu? The door closed loudly behind him, something he hadn't meant to do. Maybe he was sleeping? "Honda? Are you here? I'm back!" He said, his voice rocking high and low in his happiness. There was some rustling—he could hear it, so he knew that Honda had been sleeping. Marik didn't blame him at all; he'd caught his own sleep on the plane as well. Almost skipping toward the back, he shoved his keys—both for the rental and the apartment—into his back pocket for safekeeping.

"F—Marik? What are you doing here?" The voice greeted him as Marik walked past the kitchen, sounding a bit jolted.

"I'm sorry I woke you up. I was wondering why you didn't get my text…" Marik paused there, in the kitchen, to get himself a glass of water. He was really thirsty, and the water was cold and refreshing. Then Honda was there, at the open threshold, waiting for him. His brown hair was a little disheveled, but it was cute, and Marik couldn't help looking up at the other man with a smile. The glass was set on the table immediately and Marik was pretty sure that he'd come close to leaping into his lover's arms. But if he'd jumped, Honda's catch had been awkward, the kiss in response haphazard. "I can come back later if you want, but I had to see you. I really did catch the very first plane."

"Actually, yeah, if you gave me…um, a little time to get myself together…" Honda replied. It was an odd response, considering how much the brunette had pushed the issue of them being apart for so long, and Marik frowned. Wasn't Honda glad to see him?

"…you don't want something to eat? I can order some pizza," Marik said cheerfully, trying to change the mood. He was kind of running on the fumes produced by not being able to catch enough sleep, and it would take a bit more to put him down at this point. "Come on."

Honda didn't move. "I'm not really hungry," he said. "I just—like I said, I just got up. Give me a minute to get together and I'll be fine."

"I'll wait in the living room for you, then."

Honda did look a little tired, now that Marik thought about it, but he'd be fine. He'd suffered through worse. "Well, I'll order some. I haven't eaten in four hours. I did have something on the planes, though."

"Planes?" Honda said, chuckling. His voice shook, and Marik turned to head into the den.

"Yeah, I had to catch three of them to get here. There's no straight flight from Venice to Domino, silly."

"Oh," Honda said. He was moving toward the back, but he shouted back, "Well, you could have waited. You didn't have to rush over here. I'm not that important."

Now that…was strange. Honda had never said anything like that before. It was certainly a more mature approach to the issue, but Marik's brows couldn't help but furrow in contemplation. "…well, you were missing me so badly this week, Honda—I couldn't forget how upset you were when I told you would be there longer."

"Yeah I know," Honda said. "I'm sorry about that. I was being a jerk." There was a pause, and Marik wasn't sure if it would have been okay to accept the apology out loud, so he didn't. "But tomorrow really would have been a better time," he continued. "I was really busy this week, although it wasn't with fancy museum stuff. I told you about that car I like a lot. It's a beaut, really."

Marik sighed. "Well I'm here now Honda," he said. "So let's make the most of it." He didn't get anything out of the brunette in terms of a reply, and Marik decided to give him the moment to change.

The feeling in his gut had begun when he'd gone to the bathroom, right across from the kitchen. Something was obviously bothering Honda because he didn't even seem to be in the mood for conversation and he wasn't even talking to Marik about what it was. Honda wasn't really the emotional type, but he was definitely very outspoken; he must have still been a bit sore about the decision to elongate the trip in the first place, or the fact that the blond had come over without a proper call or permission. He did have a key, he knew, for emergency reasons and convenience—

"_No, I don't know why he's here. I didn't know he was coming…shit."_ That was the hushed whisper that he heard wafting down the hallway. It was muffled a little, and the words were accompanied by the annoying whistle that Honda's door made when it was left cracked.

"_I don't want you to get into trouble. I'll stay,"_ another voice said. At first, Marik had thought it was the television, which was always on, but he paused, holding his breath. Without thinking he reached to the wall on his right and turned off the bathroom light. He was being silly, but he wanted to make sure. His mind was jumping to conclusions already, and there was no definite proof that any of those things were happening. He'd only heard one thing, and he'd only been sure that it wasn't Honda's voice. He waited another moment, and all he heard as a commercial for some medication some disease that could also successfully make their prescribers healthier than those without the disease in the first place. He hated those commercials. He turned the light back on and finished up, loudly flushing and closing the door behind him as he made a right to go back into the den.

He wasn't sure what made him turn around—wondering if Honda was going to come out, trying to be sure that he didn't trip or hadn't dropped anything, instinctively being drawn to the light in the kitchen, which was brighter than the bulb above him—he could have picked any one. None of them would change the flash of white hair that he'd seen—that he's definitely, physically seen—moving and shaking near the top of the door's edge, which was cracked in the way that he'd known it would be.

Honda didn't have white hair. He didn't have white wigs, he didn't have any reason to have anything with white hair in his room. "I'm almost done, just give me a sec to finish my hair," Honda shouted from his room. The crack was still there, and so was the whistling sound, but the white was gone. Marik stared at the door, standing still, waiting to see something else.

He didn't. But there was no reason why Honda should have had anything with white hair in his room. Marik himself had been in there thousands of times before. Hundreds were more realistic.

The sudden seizure of his chest was amazing; it was something so spectacular, truly something that was so unexpected and unique to only this situation that Marik thought for a moment that the organ was a work of art, clenching in his chest at the exact same moment that Marik should have been screaming his bloody lungs out. But there was going to be none of that, his body had said, and so he willed himself to move instead. He took a step backward toward the den, trying his best to keep himself from tripping as the pain from his chest appeared to be attempting to move outward into his limbs. He couldn't have spoken if he wanted. Now that he had moved, he didn't just feel like moving. He wanted to run. His heart was beating and clenching somehow at the same time, and every breath he took was his body clenching up on him even more. His hands were shaking now, but not from excitement. His ears were pulsing. He wasn't sure if his body was trying to help him or reject his soul.

Marik couldn't describe his face when Honda exited his room another time. Marik didn't see anything behind him in the open door, but now he felt the pull in his gut—someone was there. He was as sure as he was that he'd been born. "What's wrong?" Honda asked, making sure that the door was closed completely, smirking a bit like he always did. Like everything was normal and it was alright to have a white-haired person in the room behind him. The tomb keeper shook his head, lips moving but gaping for a response. "We'll get pizza," Honda was saying, "and then I'll call Yuugi and the others. I'm sure that they're not doing much." All Marik could do was shake his head again as Honda turned to his left and went into the kitchen. Marik was already at the door. "How does that sound?" There was no way that he could deal with this. There were a number of thoughts coursing through his mind. One thing, two things, a million things, exponential things. Why? Honda hadn't…he hadn't…

Unlock, jiggle-twist. And he was out of the door, no delays, blond hair going behind him. Right, left and then stairs. It wasn't until he was outside of the complex that scream came to him.

* * *

Alright. Now that I've gotten the time, here are my notes:

I felt nervous about this one, like it was rushed a little. That's partially true, as I had particular difficulty with the second half of the story, from the point that Marik returns home onwards. I was trying something new with this story, and that would be the concept of covering large gaps of time without it seeming rushed in this way, but I didn't think that I was successful in doing so. I would especially like feedback on how time seemed to flow in this piece, because I know that I only included details necessary to continue the story. I could have gone in depth with Marik's visit to the Museum, and I did enough research to before realizing that I didn't want the entire story to be about Marik learning more about how to care for his family's ancient Egyptian artifacts XD

Marik's personality is a bit more subdued here than it usually is, but it's because in this particular universe he's trying to make a bit more out of himself than you typically see in fanfiction featuring Marik. Serving his family in the capacity that he was meant to. He reflects on this a little bit, but it's not a major point of the story so it's not necessarily riddled throughout. On the other hand, I elongated Honda's personality a bit, stretching out the bits and pieces I've known about him via the show (he's one of those characters that we have the history and general mannerism of, but it's still difficult to guess how he would interact in certain situations), but trying to make his decisions and reactions just as obscure in this story. We know him, but we don't, and I tried to convey this here. In my opinion, I don't peg Honda as a particularly emotional lover, something that I could see Marik liking about him in the beginning but disliking about him in the long run. Marik seems to be a hard character, but I believe that (at least after he's had his split personality removed) that would appreciate some love and TLC at times. He was a bit more jittery in this than I would have liked, but considering the nature of their relationship and the fact that he's trying to be a good guy and play by the rules, I didn't think that it was too OOC.

Why is Honda cheating on Marik? One, because I wanted an ending unlike any other piece I've written, and honestly the concept of doing so was sparked by implications in **ymilly's** _To Expect_, which was submitted in the last round. Secondly, I thought it would be interesting to have Honda off still Bakura (whom we can accurately assume is the other person in the room, with white hair), an "echo" (the theme for this contest is "echo", if I remember correctly) of my earlier story _Tego Texi Tectum_, which features Protectshipping. The title's connection to this piece is directly stated in the summary. Honda and Marik were already together at the start of this story, and their familiarity with each other implies that they've been together for what Marik at least considers a long while. It's old and complacent, patched in some places but not completely repaired or adjusted, and the parallel there is what I wanted the reader to grasp. There could be many, many reasons as to why Honda would cheat on Marik that aren't stated here. It's up to the readers to decide.

I wanted to be different about the scene where Marik puts the logic together to decide what's going on. There were a number of days that I could have gone with that, but I didn't want a large, drama-filled confrontation. Marik has demonstrated, even as I was writing, that he's capable of more controlled thought than that, and therefore I followed through with a controlled reaction. If I had to guess into the future, I would guarantee that there would be a confrontation about it very soon after this particular fic ends, but there are sometimes when all you can do is leave before emotions overcome you, and I think I accurately portrayed Marik being in that state of being.

Whew. I know. Lots of unsaid things in here. Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed it.


End file.
